


The Unknown Boundary

by YaminoTenshi202



Series: Outside of God's Haven [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretations, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Characters from JtHM are base for Original Characters, F/M, If you know JtHM, M/M, Multi, you will know where most of this is headed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10687749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: "You have a long way ahead of you, and you may just be shit out of luck one day," Devi said, turning to Todd. "Should I just wait for you and Johnny then?"Todd turned to Johnny, who was looking up at the moon. Johnny turned to them at the sound of his name. "Why don't you come with? Stop asking questions in your sleep and come find some answers?"Prequel in Kamiyonanayo series(This revolves around the character's introduced in Creation Myth Chapter 24 - The Lost Hagoromo)





	1. Welcome to the Neighborhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Todd moves to a new place.

1976

      Todd didn’t like the new house that they had moved into. It smelled too familiar. It smelled of home and sweat and his nightmare-induced tears. The wallpaper was peeling off around the floor molding.

      “Daddy-“

      “Take your stuff to your room, Todd.”

      ‘Fucker.’

      “Shut up…”

      Todd did as his father ordered, taking up his boxes to the room that his parents had chosen as his. It was the same as when they had left it all those years ago; the scent of vomit was still in the carpet even though it had been bleached and the colors finally blended into a believable shade off light green-yellow. He wondered how his parents could deal with the stench, but it seemed like they couldn’t sense it all. He forgave them for that; it was only his imagination then, surely, that convinced him that the house might be possessed.

      From his first box, he took out his clothes and things for school registration in the morning. He was just a day late, but classes wouldn’t start until next week. A new middle school for him, and another year of being asked why he was so behind when he was fourteen. He really shouldn’t be in seventh grade, but Mommy and Daddy hadn’t put him in school until late when he was seven. He had forgotten education here and there, forgetting parts needed to keep going ahead in grades. Oh well…

      He pulled out some books. Dr. Seuss books stared back at him; they were always his favorite things to read before bed. They always calmed him down, along with the music from his stereo, which a nice moving-guy had already brought in for him and set on his dresser.

      Todd pulled out a cassette from the backpack that held his stuff for school. _Queen II_ was slipped into his stereo, the cord plugged in, and the voice of Freddie Mercury began to fill his room. It was turned low, because Daddy didn’t like looking at or listening to “that limey guy that’s probably some _m_ _aricón_ ” and it wouldn’t do too well to make Daddy mad.

      From his second box, there were more clothes and then, in the bottom of the box, laid the skin of his teddy bear. Shmee’s cotton insides were in a bag in his pocket, and they were safe there; it didn’t mean that Shmee enjoyed it. He hummed as he sewed the cotton back into Shmee’s soft body. Once the stitches were set, Todd set his sewing kit by his books.

      “Let’s hurry, Shmee.”

* * *

      The wind outside was howling. There was a cobweb in the corner that Todd found himself looking at in curiosity as he cleaned. It made him think of the Spider and the Fly, but there was no other thing to truly distract from his task of setting up his room. His teddy bear whispered things to him, things that perhaps a fourteen-year-old boy shouldn’t think about or hear.

      Todd bit his lip as he heard another creak of the floorboards and the window frame, and the glass sounded like something was being pressed against it, threatening to shatter the glass.

      “…” Shmee whispered.

      “Good plan.” Todd quickly and quietly hurried out of bed. He saw nothing in the hallway, leaving him access to his parents’ room. He saw his mother sprawled out on the bed. Her gaze was vacant, looking into the space that was surely filled with some strange paradise that she never wanted to come back from; it would be the only thing that Todd could determine as the reason for all of her pill-popping.

      “I’m scared… I heard a noise.”

      “Go bother your father, honey.” His mother didn’t even lift her arm to wave him off. “He’s in his study.”

      He held his bear close, mumbling soft words to it. “Come on, Daddy will help us.”

      He came to the study where he could hear the sound of pencil and paper meeting against each other.

      “Daddy, I heard a noise.”

      “Son, we just moved here. You’re just not used to the sounds that the house makes.” His father set down his tools, sighing deeply. He let his glasses fall down from the bridge of his nose.

      “I’m busy working now. That’s all I seem to do now. I have to work to keep you alive, to feed you. I haven’t smiled once since you’ve been born. Go to sleep.”

      “But I can’t, Daddy,” Todd said, his voice coming in a shrill, quiet wailing. Undeterred by his father’s words, words he heard so often, he continued, “I don’t have any curtains on my window and I feel like things are watching me. Please, Daddy. Shmee’s hearing sounds.”

      “Your presence tires me. Go to your room and stay quiet. If you don’t, the Things might hear you.”

      “But Shmee-“

      “Go to sleep!” The voice of his father was stern and precise, cutting deep into Todd’s mind with enough of an edge that made him nod. His father turned back to curl over his desk, but not before waiting for his son’s answer.

      “… Yes, Daddy.” Todd turned to his bear, sighing and walking out of his father’s study. Maybe if he and Shmee hid under the blankets, they could fall asleep before they were killed by the Things outside of his room.

      That thought flew out of his mind the moment that he walked into his room and saw that his window was broken. There was glass inside, all over the floor, and Todd thanked Shmee for telling him to put on his shoes as he headed to his attached bathroom.

      “There’s… The bathroom…” Todd held Shmee even more tightly, grabbing a book off of his shelf. “Come on, we have to keep Mom and Dad safe.”

      “..”

      “No, you’re wrong, Shmee. They aren’t bad people. They love me. They don’t really mean it when they tell me to get kidnapped too.”

      Todd pushed the bathroom door open slowly.

      “Hi, there.”

      There were hands on his shoulders, and then one clamped down over his mouth the moment that he opened his lips to let out a noise. The book in his hand – _The Lorax_ , of all things – was gently and firmly pried out of his grip.

      “It’s okay… I just need to know where the disinfectant is. Neat book, by the way.”

      Todd blinked. That voice… It sounded so gritty, like it had been held back for months, years. He muttered something against those dry fingers, something that really bothered him.

      “… I’ll take my fingers off your mouth. If you shout… I don’t know what I’ll do.”

      The moment that Todd felt his mouth become free, the urge to shout for help left him. Those hands, almost skeletal, had taken all the breath from his lungs. He was only able to let out a squeak.

      “I’m gonna call you Squee, kid. Now, where’s the disinfectant?”

      “A-Are you hurt?” His voice came out as a whisper.

      “Yeah… Damn bastard scratched at me like a cat on crack…” Todd looked down at the intruder’s arm, the long sleeve torn and showing several lacerations, brilliant against pale, sickly skin; it’d probably be a healthy brown if they were in a better situation. “It’s really starting to sting.”

      “Okay.” Todd felt himself be released, the last tether being a hand clasped around his wrist. He led the intruder towards the medicine cabinet, ignoring Shmee’s words saying that he should break the mirror and use the glass as a weapon, use the glass to make a slit across this stranger’s throat.

      “Cute bear you got there. It needs to shut the fuck up before I tear its lint-infested guts out.”

      “Um, Shmee doesn’t mean it.” Todd looked to Shmee who stared back at him. His bear’s voice was getting out of hand, yelling at the intruder and the intruder looking more and more angry by the second. What did he mean by calling the guy a “parasite”? “He’s just upset because we just moved here.”

      The intruder – now that Todd looked at him, they were probably the same age – just scoffed.

      “I’ve got one just like him.”

      Todd hummed, moving to open the medicine cabinet while keeping his eyes on this guy in his eyes. He reached around for a minute before settling his fingers on a familiar bottle. He brought the bottle of the disinfectant to his eyes – ‘Good old Bactine,’ he thought – and handed it over.

      The other teenager quickly poured it over his wounds and over his head, some red running down over his face. Todd might have missed some scratches on the stranger’s head and on his face, but his words were a bit more distracting. Todd reached back again and handed him some bandaids.

      “… Thanks.”

      “Don’t lock your window anymore. I’ll have to keep breaking it.” The intruder turned to him. “Let’s get to know each other later, huh?”

      “…” Todd shivered, watching the stranger’s movements. He seemed to be looking down at the glass that had been shattered in the process of breaking into the room. This was a weird, kind of quiet guy for Shmee to hate so much. “What’s your name anyway?”

      “Call me Johnny.”

      Johnny then leapt out the window. Todd found himself staring up at the ceiling until his alarm went off for him to get ready for school registration.

* * *

 

      “Devi, _que haces, mija_?”

      “Nothing, pa.”

      Devi was busy drawing in her sketchbook for tomorrow. Her teacher liked how she drew; apparently, it was another kind of art that made her “want to stare into the Sun to rediscover true beauty.” Her doll in the picture had little legs and had pretty red hair, just like how her Mama did.

      “Papi, what’ll we do tomorrow?”

      “ _Tal vez…_ Hm…” Her father was looking to the wall again, looking for some answer in the wallpaper’s folds that had come up from water in the walls. “Well, when we get your school supplies, you want to go to _la tienda_? _Para unos dulces, princesa_?”

      Devi smiled up at her dad. She loved her dad and her sketchbook.

      The doll smiled, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He makes a new friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Johnny.

      Johnny was watching another commercial on television. It was another commercial about cigarettes and the Flintstones advertising their smoggy gas production. The scent of cigarettes had always irritated his nose, bothering him into wanting to avoid all places that let people smoke…

      That was pretty much everywhere.

      Maybe he should go somewhere…

* * *

    He was walking by a bakery when he saw it. From the moment that he saw it, Johnny knew that he could just take it and he’d be happy for a while. It had been the mascot that made him hunger for all of those crescent rolls. The taste of them filled him with an empty kind of longing, one that his body knew that he would never be able to fill, and he often found himself why on Earth crescent rolls could fuck his mind up so badly.

      He brought the Pillsbury Doughboy home when he was…

      He didn’t know how old he was at the time. He just brought the Doughboy home and painted him with black stripes and a smile that formed all on its own. There was a strange beauty to it, a beauty that he was trying to bring out from this bit of Styrofoam, this creation of man that was going to become his, become Johnny’s.

      Nothing had ever been his before, not really. He only remembered waking up with a Taser, a bag full of clothes, and a sketchbook. A small Swiss Army knife was in his pocket. Johnny was left in his house, and this house gave him everything he could and would ever need; nothing was really his at all, truly.

      The thought took up his mindspace so well that the Doughboy now had the work “FUCK” written right across his chest; it just seemed like the right thing.

* * *

    Johnny didn’t remember how it happened, but somehow he came to have a wallet. It wasn’t all the time that he had money. He always had what he needed at home, anyway. He didn’t really know what to do with a hundred dollars, but he had a few ideas.

      He bought a cherry-flavored slush drink, and it made him really cold, like it froze him from the inside out. Johnny had always loved the feeling since before he could remember, which never lasted long. The feeling was followed by Churritos, because the chile burnt his throat and mouth just right.

      He went to go see a movie and it happened to be about something that he didn’t like to always think about. Satan was wielding his power over the world, and Johnny got bored with it; there’s only so many apocalypse theories that he could hear about before they all sounded the same. Damian was pretty cool though… If only Johnny could cause people to go all crazy-

      That would probably be a bad idea.

      The next day, he went out and found himself with three brands of acrylic paint. It reminded him of those pictures that he read in those pulp fiction magazines, for some reasons, with those stories from Kurt Vonnegut and other writers. It made him want to paint, but his fingers couldn’t hold the brush quite right and the colors all wrong.

      The third day, he walked around town. San Francisco could be nice on these kind of days; no one was honking loudly and the streets were pretty clean. As he walked further into town, he saw a sign that caught his attention. He found himself walking in, the scent of animal flooding his nose.

      The colors and various sizes of different carriers for pets caught his eye, but he didn’t want anything big. He wanted to find something small, something warm. Johnny strode along the aisles, ignoring other customers just as they ignored him. He heard a kid whining about a puppy and how much he always wanted one. He heard an employee cuss at a cat for hissing at him.

      He stumbled to an area with gerbils, hamsters, and-

      “Cute bunnies…” Johnny bent down and saw a little rabbit, advertised to be about three months old. It was a pale brown and its nose was wriggling in a manner that Johnny urged it to sneeze and get it over with.

      He reached into the container and pulled out the pale brown one. It shook and squirmed in his grasp. He had the sudden urge to see how it would look all over his hands. He wanted a small fur glove and little feet hanging downstairs in the basement. The urge was tickling his insides as he pet the small bunny, its little nose nuzzling against the palm of his glove.

      Johnny resisted the urge to kill the little beast in his hand and grabbed everything that he would need for the thing; a container for it to live in, some stuff for it to make a nest, a bit of rabbit food, a water dispenser that it could drink from, and then he walked out of the store.

      It’s not like anyone ever bothered to notice him anyway.

* * *

      Johnny let the bunny on the floor while he read the instructions for the container. It was still before it began to joyfully hop around the room. He laid its nesting material in the container, laid out a bit of food, and filled its water bottle. He picked up Bunny then and laid it inside.

      Its little body was puffing up and shrinking quickly with each respiration that it took. It must be terribly frightened now, an emotion which was pretty damn useless. Bunny was nothing like the cockroach that wandered around Johnny’s house. Johnny felt…

      Bunny was eating. Johnny went to grab a tool box.

      As Johnny reached into the box, Bunny done eating and now sniffing his new nest, Johnny grabbed the Bunny as gently as he could, making sure it wouldn’t squeak – or make whatever sound Bunnies make – and held Bunny against the wall.

      “Welcome to the club, Bunny.”

      His hand somehow held the nail and Bunny both as Johnny swung the hammer down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He lives alone.


	3. Opinions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Johnny answers questions.

If someone had asked Johnny about what he thought of the world, they might be frightened, sickened, and they most likely would have a rather pleasant conversation before they had reached that point. They would still most likely end up in a grave.

A survey taker came to this conclusion, and Johnny didn't care that he wouldn't remember him later. His crimes were becoming marked by others, ones that could see the chaos that he brought, and that's what the questions were about.

His first question had been in response to the recent body found behind the mall. The body had had the cap of its skull removed, rather cleanly, and there was hardly any blood. In fact, the blood had actually been removed from the body by way of a water purifier.

Why would someone be driven to murder at all? One would think that in this more modern era, disputes would be settled logically and violent urges could be surpressed with other vices.

"All perfectly natural in a society whose advances are limited to its technology. The basic behaviors of the modern human is hardly different from that of its primitive ancestors. The only noticeable changes are trends," he said, looking through the surveyor's clipboard. The questions were interesting at least.

"Whether in a suit," Johnny continued, "or in a loincloth, people are ignorant little thorns cutting into one another."

The second question was rather good as well. What about violence in the media? Just a few min ago, there had been that stint in England where someone had been killed and a British film had been blamed for inspection at least part of the murder.

"Any pile of stunted growth unaware that entertainment is just that and nothing more deserves to doom themselves to some dank cell somewhere for having been so stupid!! Movies, books, T.V., music - they're all just entertainment, not guidebooks for damning yourself!"

He turned to the surveyor and smiled, leaning over to see the man's eyes. The man hung upside down, slowly being pushed down into a vat of rose thorns that would be soon be electrified. Squee's mom had liked the roses on the far side of the house, apparently, and Squee had kindly given him a lot of the thorns. Quite a lot...

"But philosophy aside, have you ever wondered why roses have thorns? It's a natural occurrence, you know. It's like whatever created the Universe wanted people to always long for something that they couldn't help but risk their safety for.

"Vice and virtue are the same. To save your soul, you have to give up pleasure. To have pleasures, you have to give up whatever concept of a soul that you have."

The survey taker squirmed in his bonds, shouting something. Johnny hummed and he twiddled his thumbs, before reaching over and placing a gloved hand on the man's gag and saying: "I'm going to take this off. You're going to die anyway, so why don't you just finish the questions?"

The stranger nodded frantically, Johnny smiling at the man's probably assumption that Johnny would let him go. The gag fell away and the man looked at the clipboard that Johnny held up for him to see.

"U-Uh... How many people do y-you think you'd kill if you c-c-could, and why?"

Johnny sighed. That was a boring question, but that was indeed a politely worded that he decided to answer.

"I don't know how many people I've killed and I don't know how many more I'll kill, but it's not always because with a reason." Johnny smiled. "I mean, just look at you. You're just a cog in the machine of societal roles, like you have deluded yourself into thinking that the facts that you can speak, walk, dress yourself, and that you have been given a role in man-made society with pros and cons like any other job... Are you deluded, Survey Man?"

Again, this would be a rather interesting conversation if someone wouldn't be dead by the end of it.

The Survey Man just trembled, and Johnny sighed.

"No conviction at all. I'll see you later-" Johnny brought up a knife that always stayed on the side of his boot, just in case. "Nah, I'll probably go somewhere else. Maybe you'll go to Heaven. Say 'Hi' to God when you get there. And he could send the Devil my way, because I have some bones to pick with the guy."

The blood spilled into the vat. Johnny shrugged and wiped off his knife as the now decapitated man drained away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the method of moving blood is inspired by a Japanese film called 252: Signal of Life. As a nurse, I can vouch for medical plausibility.


End file.
